The beaten hero
by Crumpetz1
Summary: Gary has lived a hard life, Dean made sure of that for him. However, with an opportunity presented to him early in his life, can he turn his fucked up world back around and maybe wedge a silver spoon up his ass along the way as well? Pairing undecided. Rated M.


**I've recently watched Kingsman and let me say, what a film. I loved it, even if most of it was a little far-fetched, I still loved the film.**

 **Due to this, I have decided to write my own fanfiction about it Kingsman, but will a slight twist, as always;)**

 **Without further ado,**

 **Enjoy!**

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"And next up is Gary Unwin!" A voice announced through multiple speakers situated around the large room. Rows and rows of stands were located around a huge, navy blue, rectangular mat that looked padded from a glance.

The rows were full of cheering parents, competitors and even scouts – but none of them mattered to him. The little boy of around seven years of age elegantly walked towards the blue matt from a dugout tunnel, north facing of the rectangular square. The boy was donned in a pair of light blue gymnastic shorts while his upper body was left bare showing off his developing form. The boy had light brown hair and a pair of hard, green eyes.

Calming his breath and coming to a stop in the centre of the mat did Gary allow his head to travel up – having been staring at the ground the entire time. He noted with a sharp intelligence the faces of people of interest, scouts and dare he say, girls. However, through the aimless searching the boy didn't find the person he wanted to see, his mother, causing the boy to sigh quietly to himself.

If it wasn't for his, now turned step father, she would be here celebrating with him. Her little man had made it to the regionals of people double his age.

It was the Gymnastics Under13 Regional finals.

She would be so proud of him, they had said before he left with his coach. Even as they went their separate ways, his mother - going with the pig of a man he now had to call his step-father - to get married, on the day of one of his most important achievements. It was like Dean to do this, although he never acted out against Gary, the little boy had a feeling that would change after today.

It was simple really, when Gary thought about it. He was the top of his class in primary school, having skipped two years because of his intelligence. He was a Gymnast, which Dean Thought was a girls sport, and he was a pacifist, fiercely loyal and never harming anyone.

That was all going to change now.

Taking one last sigh under his breath, the announcer called for silence while the boy began his performance. His eyes hardening and his jaw locking, Gary Unwin would never be the same again.

And it was all Dean's fault.

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3 Years later

 _Smack_

 _Twack_

 _Smack_

The onslaught was unrelenting. The hand kept coming down giving me no release from the pain, but I wouldn't cry out. I would not allow that man the satisfaction of hearing me hurt. I had to remain strong, strong for my mother, who watched with tears in her eyes as I got beat.

"Where are ma boy's car keys you mug?!" the red faced man shouted in my face. His hand was red from hitting me and was poised to strike again above his head. My right eye swollen and an angry shade of purple that was hissing on the side of my face. My left eye turning the same colour with blood pouring from my broken nose.

I shook my head at him and kept my glare hard, a deterrence that would keep people away from me that always failed against this man, but I couldn't help its appearance. I had grown along with my glare. The hate filled eyes that would stare questioningly back at me through the mirror every morning. They screamed at me to do something, help my mother, but at 10 years old I was powerless, I had nothing.

All this had started after I won my Under 13's Regional Gymnastics championship.

A lot had happened in three years, all of it bad. I was forced out of school and Gymnastics by Dean, the man who is currently beating me. He would set his goons on me when I would be walking home from school as a way to stop me from going. I would often stumble back into our derelict house on the east side of London with bruises littering my body, blood seeping from cuts and on occasion, ripped clothes and stab wounds.

"Don't lie to me boy!" the man screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth and onto the side of my face. He had my neck in a chokehold and was holding me off the floor, I knew what was coming, it always happened when he was angry with me, I was his experimental rat.

I was forced to drop from my gymnastics after being told that I could be Olympic standard. After I won my Under13's they introduced drug tests. This is where my potential career ended.

Dean would often use me as his experimental rat after getting a bad batch of drugs from a dodgy dealer. If it was Marijuana he would force me to smoke it pure, no nicotine present to help it burn. If it was heroine, he would inject it into me. Cocaine; I was forced to sniff. I've tried them all.

All while my mother wasn't here to defend me.

Not that it would have made a difference, mind you. It just makes me feel dirty. I've sullied myself by not fighting back. I couldn't, but that is no excuse.

Dragging me by my throat, Dean threw me into my room where I collided with floor and broke one of my ribs from the impact as he locked the door. I wouldn't get fed until tomorrow now and with no way to clean my cuts or fix my nose to stop the blood.

My room was very bare, a bed next to the window, a mirror on the other side and a wardrobe between the two. Nothing else. No painted walls, no carpet, just hard, wooden floorboards and dirty walling with a cracked ceiling.

The life of Gary Unwin in a nutshell.

"Stay in there you mutt." The man shouted through the door to me. I had stopped listening and chose to sit on my bed.

I just needed some help. Someone to help me and my mother.

I couldn't so this on my own anymore.

The sun shone through my window and hit something shiny on my wardrobe. The direction of the light caused the sun to be reflected into my eyes which made me squint slightly.

There sat the end to my problems. I hope. My father's Medal of Valour. I remember my mother telling me about the number on the back and that if I was ever in trouble, I was to call it. A guilty gesture from a man my father knew, she would tell me.

I stood from my bed gingerly, a broken rib that hadn't healed yet kept screaming at my sudden movements and earned a wince from me. Tears had started to fall from my eyes but I would refuse to make a noise, lest I add to that man's pleasure of hearing me whimper.

I cleared the dust from the badge, got the spare phone I kept in my mattress and called the number on the other side.

 _078 412 345_

An odd number, but I wouldn't question it as a women on the other end answered the call.

"Hello. Kingsman's customer complaint, how can I help you?"

"Hello, my name is Gary, "Eggsy" Unwin. I'm up shit creak without a paddle, my step-father abuses me and I just really need someone help." The boy whispered to the women on the other end.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number." She replied.

Startled by the lack of help, I raised his voice slightly, "What do you mean?"

"I wish you a good day sir-"

However, before the women could finish her sentence I interrupted her with a saying that I was told to remember by the man that gave me the medal, "Oxfords, not brogues."

A few seconds of silence was met with, "Your complaint has been noted, we hope not to lose you as a customer." And with that, the line went dead.

In a flash of anger, I launched the phone across the room breaking it into tiny pieces where I then collapsed into a heap on the floor. I brought my knees to my head where I cried all night.

I was all alone again,

And no one was here to save me.

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 **I know it's short, but I wanted to give the prologue a test run. See if you guys like it and want me to continue.**

 **In saying that, peace y'all.**


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